


Hearts of Iron

by DestinyRooster



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Original Character(s), Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyRooster/pseuds/DestinyRooster
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Hearts of Iron

Calder Varad looked out the wide window at the endless grey ocean and relentless storm. It was a stark contrast to the clinical setting he stood in. Everything was clean and smooth, unnaturally so, and it got on his nerves.

He was a Mandalorian, a son of a warrior culture renowned across the galaxy. More at home on a raging battlefield, or in an untracked wilderness, Calder bristled in this environment that was more like a hospital than the training ground he had imagined.

Dressed in more casual clothes somehow added to his discomfort. He wore black boots, a brown, banther leather flight jacket, and a wide brimmed hat. Casual as he was, he wasn’t completely defenseless. His armoured bracers housed integrated weapons, the right was home to a blaster, the left held a weighted whip-cord. Should those fail, a subtle vibroknife with a three-inch blade rested in its sheath on his hip.

“Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

The voice called him away from his thoughts. Calder looked to see the face of legendary bounty hunter, Jango Fett. He almost didn’t recognize him without his signature chrome armour with blue accents.

The two hadn’t known each other for long. Much of Calder’s tribe had been briefly involved with Jaster Mereel’s so-called True Mandalorians and his fight against the Death Watch during the civil war that devastated Mandalore. Jango had been Mereel’s right-hand, and the two had been inseparable.

Last time Calder had seen the man, they hadn’t left on the best of terms. Calder’s father had decided that the fight had gone on long enough, that the Death Watch had been humiliated in overwhelming defeat and continuing the fight bordered on zealotry. Jaster Mereel disagreed, so Calder and the others left the True Mandalorians behind.

Back then, Jango had looked every bit the part of a warrior. His chrome armour had been carbon-scored and scratched by dozens of back-to-back battles. Outside of his armour, Jango still looked like a capable fighter, but very subdued. Rather than the traditional armour of his people, Fett wore a simple, loose fitting blue outfit. “I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place.”

Calder smirked. Kamino wasn’t documented in most star charts, and many residents of the galaxy didn’t believe it existed. Tracking down the planet of eternal storms had been his test. “Nothing stays hidden from me for too long, Jango.”

Fett’s face softened into a friendly smile, a difficult feat considering the scars and a lifetime of scowling. “I get the feeling it isn’t what you expected.”

“Clones, Jango?” Calder had seen one of the colossal rooms which housed countless human embryos. It had been unnerving, and there was little left in the galaxy Calder had thought could have that effect on him. “What the Hell have you gotten yourself into?”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “It’s a job, like any other. Are you interested in starting yours?”

Calder folded his arms. “How much do clones need to be trained? I thought battle tactics were downloaded straight into their brains or something.”

Jango frowned suddenly. “They’re human, Calder. The Kaminoans created them to have fast reflexes, strong muscles and perfect vision, but teaching is still what they need.”

Calder waved his hand dismissively. “You called me all the way out here. Lets see these soldiers you want me to train.”

Fett nodded and motioned for Calder to follow him. The two walked in silence for a time, and Calder felt the awkwardness growing. “There’s more you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

Jango smirked again. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Rolling his eyes, Calder said, “About the job, Jango. Something’s off about this whole planet.”

“You’ll see them soon enough.”

“It’s about the clones? What’s so strange about teaching artificial versions of you how to fight?” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word.

Jango shook his head. “You’re not ready for what’s ahead, Calder. These ones aren’t like the rest. The Kaminoans wanted them terminated.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, kid. That’s the point.”

Calder bristled at being called a kid. He was twenty six years old, and had been an adult by Mandalorian standards for half of his life. He dismissed his feelings. Curiosity was stronger anyway. “If there’s nothing wrong with them, why do the snakes want to terminate them?”

Jango sighed, obviously dismayed. They weren’t too familiar with each other, but even so, it wasn’t an expression Calder had ever seen on the man before. Genuine sadness. “The Kaminoans are perfectionists. If anything is wrong, the slightest defect, they want to strike it from the record.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to work for them,” Calder said, huffing.

“It’s not all bad,” Jango said, straightening up. “The pay is good, the job is easy, and there’s been… other benefits as well.”

“If you say so,” Calder said.

The halls of the Kaminoan cloning labs were a labyrinth of tube-like hallways, twisting in all kinds of odd directions. No straight paths lasted long before taking an awkward turn, or moving dramatically up or down. Between their cold and unfeeling eyes, their serpentine necks, their casual dismissal of lifeforms, and their ridiculous architecture, Calder got the feeling he wouldn’t get along with Kaminoans very well.

Finally, Jango stopped in front of a smooth, white door. “We’re here.”

Calder raised an eyebrow. “What, the entire company of troops is in this room?”

“Don’t be smart with me kid. No, I figured you should be introduced to the captain first.”

Reasonable enough logic. Calder took a breath that tasted of perfectly sterilized air and shrugged. There was something very strange about all of this. He resigned himself to whatever odd fate waited for him behind the door, and gestured for Jango to go ahead.

Fett tapped the console on the doorframe and it slid open with a soft mechanical hiss. Jango motioned for him to go in first, and Calder acquiesced. The lights were dim compared to the unyielding clinical brightness of the rest of the facility. Calder blinked twice, and once accustomed to the new light level, he inspected the room.

Inside were four small bunks with simple footlockers at the foot of each. A small porthole window allowed a viewer to see the ocean and much of the cloning facility. What captured his attention though, were the four little girls standing at attention in the middle of the room, wearing identical uniforms of black tunics and trousers.

“...”

The girls were silent, none of them looking him in the face. They couldn’t have been any older than six by the look of them, but they already stood with the attention of a soldier.

“...” Calder was completely speechless. He had been expecting versions of Jango with an extra arm, or missing an eye or something. Not four little girls with light-brown skin, black hair and strong noses. He cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder to Fett, who was leaning against the doorway with his arms folded, a smug expression on his face.

“Jango.”

“Calder.”

“What the Hell.”

Jango pointed to the girls with his chin. “They’re the soldiers you’ll be training.”

“They’re _children_ Jango!”

“We’re soldiers.”

Calder whipped around and looked at the girls, still standing perfectly still, arms to their sides, looking straight ahead. “Who said that?”

“I did,” one of the girls said, still looking forward.

_No_ , Calder thought as he looked closer at their faces, the subtle ways they moved. One clenched and unclenched her left hand into fist. _They’re avoiding eye contact_.

“What’s your name?”

“Seetee One one one nine five eight!”

It took Calder a moment to realize the girl had just said a serial number. CT-111958. His expression hardened and he turned back around to face Jango.

Jango shrugged and walked away, closing the door behind him. Calder fumed.

“Sir, permission to speak?”

Calder looked around for a seat before giving up and sitting down cross-legged in front of the girls. “You don’t have to talk so formally, I’m not anybody special.” He looked up and saw the girl who had been speaking was biting her lip, suddenly uncertain. “You’re allowed to talk.”

The girl visibly relaxed, but still stood with her arms stuck to her sides. “Thank you sir. I… I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”

Calder pinched the bridge of his nose. _A planet in the middle of nowhere, off the star charts? What were you thinking Calder?_ He opened his eyes and saw all of the girls were visibly uncomfortable, stealing quick glances at each other.

“Please, sit down, you’re making me nervous. Go ahead and feel comfortable, please,” Calder said.

Three of the girls looked to the one who had been speaking, the one Calder assumed was the captain Jango had mentioned. She looked back to them and nodded. All four sat down, and mimicked his cross-legged position.

“Is that a real knife?”

The question took Calder off guard. He paused for a moment and smiled slightly. “Yeah, want a closer look?” He drew the short blade from its sheath and gently tossed it onto the air, catching the blade in his gloved hand and offering the handle. “Be careful, it’s sharp.”

The girl looked mesmerized, and reached out to take the blade. “They don’t let us handle weapons, but I’ve seen the boys play with them.”

Calder felt a sting in his heart. Jango hadn’t been kidding, these kids were basically trash to the Kaminoans. He put a cap on his anger, and tried to appear friendly.

“It’s a Mandalorian knife. Beskar steel, it’ll never break on you.”

Suddenly smiling broadly, the girl held the knife with newfound fascination. “Jango Fett promised you would teach us about weapons.”

Calder couldn’t help but smile genuinely when the girl carefully passed the knife to her identical sister. All of them were unashamedly interested. He had become just another object in the room. He remembered when he had been small, and his father had shown him his blasters. He took another deep breath. “Do you have names?”

“Yes sir, CT-”

“That’s a number. My name is Calder. Calder Varad.”

The girls looked at each other, seeking answers and support in each other’s eyes. Finally, they all looked back at him. “Do you promise not to tell?”

_I’m already trusted with secrets?_ Calder couldn’t help but feel a childlike pleasure at being invited into their conspiracy. “I promise.”

She hesitated, looking back to find the approval of her sisters before saying, “My name is Dawn.”


End file.
